


My arms are around you...

by Reene_Lou



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Death, Gen, He ain't heavy he's my brother..., Mama Stilinski - Freeform, Tears, loss of a parent
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-06
Updated: 2012-09-06
Packaged: 2017-11-13 15:52:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,414
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/505188
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Reene_Lou/pseuds/Reene_Lou
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Those of the Pack, who went to Beacon Hills High, distantly remember the time Stiles took a month off of school; it's not like there was a big announcement or special assembly. He returned one bleak morning at the beginning of January as if from holiday and no one cared enough to question it. </p><p>Scott cares...</p>
            </blockquote>





	My arms are around you...

Those of the Pack, who went to Beacon Hills High, distantly remember the time Stiles took a month off of school; it's not like there was a big announcement or special assembly. He returned one bleak morning at the beginning of January as if from holiday and no one cared enough to question it.

* * *

Only Scott knew the reason for his absence, the true reason behind the profound silences that fell every time someone mentioned what their Mom was cooking for dinner or how much of a drag she was for enforcing a ten pm curfew on weeknights.

He tried his best to console his friend keeping up with his mood swings and trying to occupy his mind with late night tournaments on the x-box, he listened and comforted when Stiles’ ramblings took a dark turn and his face crumpled as the Doctors words hit him all over again.

“Turning off the machine”

The pain so raw and fresh it looked as if someone had taken a piece of sandpaper to his heart.

* * *

Scott lost track of how many times he’d held Stiles as his defenses fell and he sobbed in earnest with unrestrained grief, how many times his arm had fallen asleep along with Stiles, as they sat on the floor of his bedroom. The only place, Stiles allowed himself to cry for fear of upsetting his Father. How many times had he felt a damp wetness on his shoulder as those tears soaked into his shirt?

How truly disturbing it was to see his best friend with the motor mouth and incessant the jokes reduced to a mere shell of himself. It broke his heart to listen to Stiles cry himself to sleep beside him, to know that there were no words that could ease his pain.

To realize that Stiles slept at his because his Father retreated to the bottom of a bottle every night, throwing himself into work during the day, visiting the hospital every chance he got before sleeping and replaying the same day over on waking.

* * *

He remembers how he found out that she was gone, waking in the night, days after the accident to find Stiles sitting on the edge of his bed, hunched over just gasping for breath; he struggles with the covers to kneel on the bed beside him, taking in the tears that streak run down his mottled face, and the harsh gulping sounds Stiles makes, as he fights the rising panic and swell of emotions threatening to overwhelm him.

Scott remembers how he held himself fists clenched, nails cutting into the skin leaving angry crescent shaped cuts that well up letting tiny rivulets of blood escape through his fingers. Then he’s retching doubled over and heaving as Scott is helping him up, half carrying him to the bathroom, he vomits coughing and gagging and it’s just streams of green and yellow bile, there’s nothing to bring up…

Scott knows he hasn’t eaten in days, living off of cheap coffee from the vending machine in the hallway across from his Mothers room because the thought of venturing father from her bedside is enough to quell his aching hunger.

He rubs small circles into his back, because he has to do something, anything to help. The worst of the sickness subsides along with the violent tremors that accompanied it, Stiles rests against the toilet eyes closed, clear watery snot running from his nose, sniffing softly. Still Scotts hand moves in the same never ending circle, the numb friction of Stiles shirt against his hand.

It feels like the earth has fallen from its axis and it’s no longer turning but falling through space at a horrific speed, lurching towards the time when Stiles would break this spell of silence and it would splinter and shatter never to be whole again.

The silence continues, he doesn’t speak and it’s terrifying.

Scott leans forward to rest his head in the space between Stiles shoulder blades, wrapping his arms around him, huffing warm breaths out and drawing harsh breaths in, blinking away his tears.

He wouldn’t cry, couldn’t cry.

This wasn’t about him.

His heartbreak and grief would have to wait.

* * *

He forces Stiles to rinse his mouth and actually drink a glass of water then shoulders his weight, all but carrying him back to the bedroom; he sits him on the edge of the bed and starts to undress him warily as if anything to sudden would trigger another attack.

He unbuttons Stiles’ shirt easing his arms out and dropping it to the floor, all this and Stiles’ is unresponsive but pliant under his care. Scott kneels to untie his shoes, slipping them off and removing his socks after. He hesitates momentarily before reaching for Stiles’ belt and unbuckling it and then popping the button of his jeans undone he tugs gently pulling them off by inches before Stiles’ hands are on his eyes wide and sad.

“I’m sorry” his face crumples, he lets out a quiet sob “I’m sorry”

Scott angrily swipes away the tears he hadn’t even realized were falling.

“Don’t be stupid” he mumbles, shaking his head softly “When have you ever apologized for waking me at 3am by climbing in through the window?” He refuses to acknowledge the real reason Stiles is here until he says it.

Stiles’ just nods seemingly understanding.

Scott sniffs sharply, “Just- just lift your fat ass dude, I’m trying to get these pants off and you’re heavy as fuck”  

Stiles’ laughs abruptly, lifting his hips then stops horrified at himself, anguish clouding his features. It’s like a blow to the stomach to hear his laugh cut short, to see that look on his face.

Scott pulls his jeans the rest of the way off and climbs onto the bed; he loops an arm around Stiles’ waist and pulls him along with him.

* * *

They both lie there Stiles curled up on his side facing the wall with Scott beside him; the only light the moon streaming in through the still open window.

Anxiety eats at him as he waits for Stiles to tell him, the news he so desperately doesn’t want to hear, he has no right to feel this way and he hates himself for it.

Time passes slowly, so slowly and he lies, eyes closed tears still falling, trying so hard not to break down. He has to be strong, he has to see Stiles through this even though his heart is breaking and all he wants to do is scream and shout at the injustice of it all.

At first it’s barely a whisper then Stiles is repeating it, over and over.

“She’s gone, she’s gone...” his voice cracked and broken and so raw, “She’s dead and I don’t want her to be.” He sobs distraught “I love her so much and she’s gone and I feel like- I feel like I can’t breathe” His fists clench tightly and he’s banging them into his chest, punching himself, he’s scraping his nails across his chest digging in tearing at his skin, he screams guttural and jagged as if the pain will only stop once he’s forced it out of himself.

Scott lets him; his Mother’s at the Hospital there’s no one to wake, he rolls onto his side and wraps and arm around his best friend grabbing ahold of his fists, forcing them open and threading their fingers, he curves his body to match Stiles’ own and just holds him.

He holds him through the screaming, through the rough mumbled pleas for his Mother and the curses at the world for taking her.

He doesn’t say I’m sorry, the words are like ash in his mouth a well meaning platitude that really means nothing, void of personality or feelings, easily regurgitated on demand by anyone upon hearing the news.

He holds him tighter still as the tears which never really stopped continue and he shudders with every hiccupping sob. He doesn’t let go when the vibrating tension finally leaves his body and Stiles falls into a fitful slumber, snuffling against a blocked nose and his breathing raspy and uneven.

Scott cries mutely, he cries for his friend, his brother and the woman who treated him as if her were her own. He cries because he can’t fix it, he cries because he knows Stiles will never fully recover.

His thumb strokes soft circles over Stiles’ fingertips an unconscious movement he continues even as he too falls asleep.

 

**Author's Note:**

> It sucks I know please don't hate me. 
> 
> I post my fics on [tumblr](http://captainsourwolfandadderallboy.tumblr.com/) too so stop by and let me know if I made you cry...


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